


Retribution

by 5amfries



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Belching, Belly Kink, Burping, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5amfries/pseuds/5amfries
Summary: McCree screws up the mission and Genji's there to revel in it.





	Retribution

“Why are you such a fat ass?”

McCree has the balls to smirk up at him haughtily, his large, warm palms rubbing gently at Genji’s thighs. His thumbs squeeze and prod at the dark grey armor that covers him as if he still retains his once soft skin. The cocky yet sensitive gesture pisses Genji off, makes him feel as if McCree’s in control when that is mostly definitely not the case.

McCree parts his lips as if to respond, but then he decides against it, choosing instead to remove his right hand from Genji’s thigh and brings it to his mouth in the form of a fist. A shudder and creaking groan from McCree’s belly jostle him. It’s really a warning he doesn’t take into consideration until he hears a noisy gurgle rushing up his partner’s throat.

McCree unleashes a monstrous belch into his hand, his face pinched in discomfort. The sound gives away just how stuffed to the gills he is, the angry growling from his overworking guts reveal that there’s only more to come and that it is far from finishing its digestion.

Beneath his mask, Genji bites his bottom lip, the grip he has on McCree with his thighs tighten as he lets his thoughts and McCree’s sounds take over. He accidentally lets out a whimper when McCree mutters an insincere apology and he gently rocks back and forth on the cowboy’s stomach.

That damned smirk reignites itself on McCree’s lips. “Why do you like it so much?”

Genji’s already lost this game. They both know it, as they lock eyes and Genji makes no signs of stopping his movements on top of McCree. Doesn’t mean he going to give attention to it.

“This is about you, cowboy.” He snarks back, leaning forward slightly. His fingertips rest towards the top of McCree’s middle. “I am not the one who almost blew the mission because I could not control my gluttony.”

Another deep grumble from his insides has McCree wincing, but he doesn’t let that deter his retort. “I ain’t the one that made you storm into my room and push me down because I couldn’t control my lust.”

Genji’s ruby irises narrow. “You talk way too much.” He scolds, pressing his fingers into McCree’s taunt skin. The action dislodges a pocket of air within McCree and he lets out another bass-filled eructation. A hiccup shakes him soon after, followed by one more noisy eruption.

“Ow, fuck!” McCree hisses, glaring up at the ninja. “Can ya not do that. I’m a little tender here.”

Genji smiles sadistically under his mask, his hips picking up speed.

“You tell me this, as if that is my fault.” He replies, humored and thoroughly aroused.

“You’re the one pokin’ at me, dollface.”

“I did not make you stuff yourself for hours, McCree.”

McCree takes his hands off of Genji’s thighs and relocates them to his face instead, cupping his armored covered cheeks.

“But what if ya did, sweetheart?” McCree asks, voice low and scratchy. It perks Genji’s ears, his already palpitating heart races faster. His reconstructed muscles become tense without his control as the building heat he had stewing in him since he first saw Reyes storming through their hideout, ranting about McCree fucking up his cover and belching into his ears through the comm links, was now turning into a raging fire. It burned in the best way possible. This was why Genji had taken back his initial decision to see McCree as obsolete. Feeling. He gave him feeling, remembrance of the times when he felt truly alive and in his element: sexual stimulation. 

“… What do you mean?” Genji asks, trying his best to keep up his faux aura of annoyance and disconnect. Though as he stares McCree down, he sees a spark of determination that has him flinching away.

McCree catches him, not letting Genji turn his head. “You like it when I do this.” He responds, running his hands down the ninja’s neck with only the utmost care that has Genji trembling underneath his touch. “Of course, I mighta been hungry, but I was thinkin’…” McCree pauses to hiccup, the action making Genji bounce and only disrupting his focus on keeping his last bit of consciousness intact.

“Hah! Ah…” Genji can’t contain the breathy moans that escape without permission. He watches McCree’s smug smirk find its place back onto his lips.

“Heh. Maybe I could get a lil big for ya.” McCree’s hand roam down, so agonizingly slow, to Genji’s hips. He fits his large palms into the cuts of his waist and roughly pushes Genji forward and back, dragging him across his belly. Another moan pierces threw Genji’s mask, mingling with the grumbles of McCree’s stomach. If he had been standing, Genji knows his knees would shake and buckle under the intense wave of blind pleasure that was taking him over.

“Thought about gettin’ ya just like this.” McCree continues, moving his hands back up to Genji’s neck, then his face once the ninja’s got the message of keeping the pace McCree’s made for him. His fingers shift up and click at the latches that hold Genji’s mask together, revealing the absolute destruction of Genji’s newly manufactured personality. This is Genji. The real one. The one with flushed, heated cheeks, eyes lined with glittering tears and mouth opened, panting and moaning, yearning to take something in. McCree obliges. With a huff of laughter, he hooks a thumb into Genji’s awaiting lips.

“Every bite I took, I thought of you. Thought about how’d’ya twirl that whole plate of spaghetti onto a fork with those pretty fingers of yours and you’d put all of it right here.” McCree brought his free hand up to his face, index finger pointing directly into his gaping mouth. Genji stares, enchanted, while his lips close around McCree’s thumb, sucking and licking at the digit. The thought of being the reason of McCree being a bloated mess, because he gave him too much Italian cuisine.

“Had some lasagna too. Thing musta had at five layers and seven different cheeses. It was so thick…” As if it were listening to him reminiscence, McCree’s stomach made a deep grumble.

Genji’s lips parted, exhaling a long breath. “Was it enough to shut you up?” He somehow manages to ask. He feels his heart beat so fast. He’s out of breath. It’s so close, Genji swears he can see it as he moves even faster against McCree’s skin. Another groan from the depths of the cowboy’s guts sounds off before his throat announces the incoming expulsion.

“What do you think?” McCree sarcastically inquires, making no effort to stop the grandiose belch that rumbles on and on and Genji can’t handle it. He gasps the seemingly unnatural force that comes out McCree.

McCree sighs afterwards, bringing his hand down to his chest and he rubs at skin. “Mmm… Tiramisu.”

Genji finds that peak, his heat and heartrate reaching its all time high. His teeth grasp at his bottom lip in a fruitless attempt of caging in the loud moans of his orgasm.

“J… Ah… Mm… Jesse…!” He sees black as he closes off his vermillion colored eyes from the world.

He barely hears McCree’s sweet coaxing and feels his loving touch over the intensity of his climax. Genji’s drowning, but only in the best of scenarios and he never wants to resurface. He misses this. Misses the feeling of knowing he is indeed alive and human, has natural cravings and desires. McCree’s the last person on the forsaken planet he’s expected to give that to him, but he deeply appreciates it, though he’d never give the cowboy the full satisfaction of admitting it aloud.

Once the burn dies down and the numbness sets in, Genji falls into McCree, his bones feeling as though they turned into gelatin.

A soft press of lips graces his head and it makes him take a proper breath. Warmth envelopes him, this heat one of comfort now. Genji takes the opportunity as he buries his face in McCree’s neck to smile, just a little.


End file.
